


birthday boy

by intrajanelle



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cafe AU, M/M, Natasha's the bestest friend, Skinny Steve, barista Bucky, hipster Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3519581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intrajanelle/pseuds/intrajanelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did you…” Bucky waved his arm in the direction Hot Peter had wandered and tried to seem entirely displeased with the course of events.</p><p>“Did I tell that cute hipster that you are really gay and really single? Why would I do that?” Natasha blew a bubble and popped it with her teeth while Bucky stared at her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	birthday boy

In the entire time Bucky Barnes had served as a barista for SHIELD Cafe, the “Seriously Hot, something-or-other, Lauded Drinks” Cafe, a small coffee shop in Brooklyn, he’d gotten exactly two numbers.

 

One had been from an old woman with thinning white hair, who’d winked as she slid a worn business card into his hand. The other, on the morning of his birthday, exactly five minutes ago, from a tall, lean guy with a camera slung around his neck. He’d been good looking and he’d smiled as he wrote his number on his receipt. He made sure Bucky had stowed the piece of paper in a pocket before he sauntered out the door and down the sidewalk, sipping his Chai Latte.

 

Bucky stared. And stared. “Peter,” he’d written on the guys foam cup.

 

“Peter,” Bucky said aloud as he rubbed his prosthetic arm with his flesh one. He was confused, and then he wasn’t. “Natasha,” Bucky barked, spinning to find the shock of red hair leaning over the cash register.

 

There was no one else in the shop. It was 7:20 in the morning. Way too early to even be awake, let alone on the verge of strangling his best friend to death.

 

“What?” Natasha said, innocently, turning to look at Bucky.

 

She had a piece of gum in her mouth and chewed loudly as she stared at him. The picture of innocence.

 

“Did you…” Bucky waved his arm in the direction Hot Peter had wandered and tried to seem entirely displeased with the course of events.

 

“Did I tell that cute hipster that you are really gay and really single? Why would I do that?” Natasha blew a bubble and popped it with her teeth while Bucky stared at her.

 

“Stop,” Bucky warned, wagging a metal finger. He shoved his way into the back room to get another caramel pump, patted the receipt in his pocket fondly while away from Natasha’s all-seeing eyes, and promptly forgot all about Natasha’s betrayal when the front door chimed a dozen times in a row and the morning rush descended on SHIELD.

 

It was three receipts and a folded napkin later when Bucky realized that something was wrong.

 

He wasn’t bad looking, at least he was decent. He had nice eyes, he knew, a strong chin. Some guys even went for the long hair he kept tucked in a messy bun while he was working. But ever since he’d gotten back from his final tour, one arm down, with a face that was bad at hiding the fact that he was scared and angry 90 percent of the time, he got hit on a lot less. If he wanted to get laid he usually had to plaster on a smile and his tightest black pants, ply himself with fruity drinks, and try his darndest to seem relaxed.

 

Today, however, he hadn’t smiled, hadn’t loosened his shoulders since he’d woken up. He was wearing work-appropriate pants and a black V-neck and an apron covered in coffee grounds. He hadn’t so much as said a flirty word since three nights ago, two blocks over, at the Red Room Bar & Nightclub. And he didn’t remember seeing any of the guys who’d been throwing their numbers all morning at him at the bar that night.

 

He’d stopped wondering if it was Natasha messing with him and started wondering if it was a Divine joke when the fifth guy of the day picked his Caramel Macchiato from Bucky’s fingers and tucked a business card into the front pocket of Bucky’s apron.

 

The guy was tall, with dark skin and buzzed hair, a small neat beard. Handsome. He smiled like he’d won some kind of contest. Bucky frowned at him.

 

“Do you mind if I ask you what’s up with this?” Bucky whispered.

 

“What?” the guy frowned, pretty lips twisting down.

 

“This,” Bucky gestured to the guys card, his number, peeking out of Bucky’s pocket. “Am I going crazy? Is this a prank? What’s going on?”

 

“Oh,” the guy said, smile returning. “Thought you knew. There’s a sign outside.”

 

A sign. Bucky’s eyes almost popped out of his head. Natasha, in a rush of uncharacteristic generosity at 6 o’clock in the morning, had offered to put the shop’s sign outside. Because it was March 10, Bucky’s birthday, and she was trying to be nice.

 

He should have known better.

 

“Thanks,” Bucky said to the guy as he came around the counter. He sped past him, past the register, ignored Natasha’s “Hey!” as he burst through the front door and found himself face-to-face with SHIELD’s latest marketing slogan.

 

Natasha had drawn a stick figure of Bucky, in an apron, metal arm crossed over his flesh one, mean look on his face. Underneath it she’d written:

 

“TODAY YOUR BARISTA IS:

 

1\. Hella fucking gay.

 

2\. Desperately single.

 

3\. Another year older.

 

FOR YOUR DRINK TODAY I RECOMMEND:

 

You give him your number.”

 

Bucky sighed as he kneeled in front of the carnage Natasha had created with a single piece of white chalk and began wiping off the offending message with the edge of his apron. He was halfway through when a shadow fell over him. He half-expected it to be Natasha, he could practically feel the weight of her judging stare. But when he turned around it wasn’t Natasha.

 

It was the most beautiful guy Bucky had ever seen. Short and thin, with soft blond hair tucked into a beanie. Tight dark jeans rolled up his calves. Converse tied loose around small ankles. A drawing pad tucked under an arm. The guy was holding an ice coffee in one hand and a receipt in the other and he was frowning at Bucky like frowning was an Olympic sport.

 

The guy looked like he was made to be an artist. To be a fighter. His fingers looked equally built to create and to defend. They almost looked too big for his hands, like he’d been meant to be bigger, to take up more space than he did. Bucky could imagine the guys slim fingers wrapped around a pencil, around a paint brush, around his—

 

“Um,” Bucky said.

 

“Hi,” the guy said. “Are you not taking these anymore?”

 

He held out the receipt and Bucky could see the numbers scrawled with a stark red pen.

 

“No, no, no,” Bucky said in a rush, “I totally am. This is,” he pointed at the sign, “it’s, well. But I am. Thanks.”

 

He scrambled to stand as the guy held out his receipt. His smile was a gentle thing as he placed the piece of paper in Bucky’s metal fingers.

 

“Steve,” the guy said, waving a tiny wave.

 

“Bucky,” Bucky said. “It’s nice to meet you, Steve.”

 

And Bucky was sure somewhere inside the shop Natasha was saying I told you so and ignoring customers to call Clint and gloat, but Bucky could hardly bring himself to care. He watched Steve walk away, tucked his number into the back pocket of his jeans, and considered that this was probably the best birthday he’d had in a long time.

 

When he headed back inside he considered making Natasha one of those Frappuccinos she liked, on him. That way he knew she would understand what he meant, without him having to say the words.

**Author's Note:**

> Entirely based on this sign: http://inconsequentixl.tumblr.com/post/107121699969/brolininthetardis-this-is-a-coffeeshop-au
> 
> It's my birthday today! And in MCU it's Bucky's b-day too, so I thought I'd do us both a favor and set him up with Steve. This is entirely self-indulgent and more than a little silly, so I apologize for that. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading! And have a wonderful day :D


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